Wake Up Call
by worrybugger
Summary: After Myles is shot during a raid, he is left to pick up the pieces. But how will he cope when he feels like his world is falling down around him and he's powerless to stop it? Contains references to depression and anxiety. Spoilers: S1E12 (The Leak).


**This is just a short piece, focusing on Myles after he's shot in S1E12. It focuses on his anxiety and panic, as well as some depression resulting from the traumatic event. **

**As someone who has suffered from depression, anxiety disorder and panic attacks, I hope that I've expressed just how powerless it can render a person to escaping the cycle, and the feelings and thoughts it can provoke. **

**As always, I don't own Sue Thomas FBEye, or the captivating Agent Leyland, but all mistakes are my own!**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**SPOILERS: The Leak (Season One, Episode 12)**

Myles lay in bed, the darkness enveloping him. His pulse was racing, and his mind followed suit, replaying the mission which nearly got him killed. The raid on Ahmed Al Azir was meant to go smoothly. But he didn't see the bullet coming. If he didn't have a vest on his life would be over. He truly would have been a meteor burning bright and fast.

It had been several days and still the anxiety and fear of the event had not subsided. Every night he lay in bed, the memory replaying. Not only that but when he went to work, when he was out of the field in the real world his mind ran amuck, conjuring up situations which could get out of hand, situations where his bulletproof jacket would not be around to save him. Everything had a risk, there was danger around every corner, when there hadn't been before. A coffee shop, the bull pen, even the safety of his own home had been violated by one freak event.

Every time he was assigned to do a job he was on his guard. He couldn't so much as grab lunch without seating himself in the corner of a room; just to make sure he could see anyone or anything which could cause danger. If there was no corner table he moved on elsewhere. His preference to stay alive was far stronger than his preference for different cuisines. If anyone would have told him that Myles Leyland the third would be afraid of his own shadow he would have laughed at them. But now he could not shake of those feelings of trepidation and fear which hung over him like a rain cloud.

Night was the worst. Lying in the dark he was powerless against the equally dark thoughts which taunted him. If he wasn't wearing that jacket, how much of a loss would his death have been? He had nobody who cherished him. His family, though successful, was dysfunctional, and he had only just healed the breach with his sister. His colleagues, though friendly and kind, had far stronger bonds with one another than with him. And he had nobody special to him; not like Jack had Sue, or Dee had Donna. Even Bobby, Tara and Lucy had people who they had been involved with, who they shared feelings with. But as usual, he returned to an empty home, one which he had once hoped to accommodate a wife and children. The more he thought about what the bullet could have taken from him, the more Myles realised just how much he had failed to achieve. He was no closer to those wife and kids than he had been upon joining the FBI.

It was one of those nights where he'd experienced his first panic attack. His pulse began to quicken, and his throat began to tighten, constricting his breathing to rugged hyperventilation. He could feel his body shaking, out of his control, as pain stabbed in his chest. It felt like hours before he could slow his breathing, leaving his clothes soaked with sweat and tears. Maybe if he had someone special they could have helped him through this. But he couldn't bear to be a burden, not when his relationship with his sister was only just blossoming. He couldn't treat her like a carer, asking her to mop up his tears whilst he shook from irrational fears. And he couldn't do the same to his friends. Not when his attitude had been so cocky and confident, he couldn't let them see him suffer. If he hadn't found someone special by now, how likely was it that someone could love him now, when he was crippled by depression, anxiety and self-doubt? He'd just have to learn to cope alone.

It was a wake-up call; Life is short, and it can be taken away with the press of a trigger.

Closing his eyes and begging for sleep to take him he whispered what he'd been thinking all along.

"_I am a failure."_


End file.
